


Days Long Gone

by Pteropoda (SilentP)



Series: Roll Out [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentP/pseuds/Pteropoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Big mechs leave big gaps to fill when they're gone. Ratchet knows this, and First Aid finds it out, when he asks his CMO about a long-deactivated friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days Long Gone

**Author's Note:**

> The IDW continuity introduced Roller as a paddy wagon friend of Orion Pax and Ratchet, so I wanted to take that and roll with it.

Every Autobot base First Aid had ever served in’d had a number of unspoken rules. At Delphi, the most important ones had to do with Pharma’s exacting standards. ‘Don’t question Pharma’s ability as a doctor’ had been the first and most important lesson that First Aid had learned, and it had served him well, particularly after his demotion to nurse. (Pharma had never stopped needling him about that. First Aid had _nearly_ talked back more times than he could count.)

The Lost Light was no exception on the unspoken rules, for all that the war was over and the ship a bit… unusual. Sure, there were plenty of things that were simple common sense, like standing behind Atomizer when he had a crossbow in hand, or don’t make Cyclonus mad, or don’t drown your sorrows at Swerve’s unless you want everyone to know. The names were different, perhaps, but every base had their loose cannons, their gossips. Those were easy to figure out- First Aid just listened for the first few days aboard the ship, and the gossip told him anything he needed to know.

Other rules seemed to have developed through hard trial and error. Never try to figure out who’s in a session with Rung. Don’t touch the Rod Pod. And the one most central to First Aid’s work: Rodimus might be Captain of the ship, but Ratchet is Lord and Prime of the medbay, and don’t you forget it.

First Aid had seen that rule in place in other Autobot medbays, with other Autobot medics, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Ratchet was the source of it. The CMO knew if a bot came in for so much as a virus scan, and even when things seemed on the brink of chaos, Ratchet had a handle on the situation. The medbay was his until the moment he handed it over at the end of his shift, and even when he was alone on his shift, First Aid got the feeling that he was only keeping an eye on things until Ratchet got back. Some days, it was enough to make First Aid question if Ratchet ever truly meant to retire, but at least the old mech didn’t question First Aid’s medical capabilities, or his dedication to his work.

But Ratchet never gave up a job once he’d started it, either, which was why First Aid, when he walked into the medbay at the beginning of a shift to see Ratchet busy working on a scrapped-up Whirl, didn’t offer to take over the job. Instead, he nodded a cheerful greeting and started to review the patient logs from Ratchet’s shift (over now for at least ten kliks). It had been a quiet shift, apparently, up until Whirl and Sunstreaker had both been sent in after a scuffle.

Ratchet, of course, was grumbling as he worked, but his hands were steady as he welded and sanded down lines of torn armor. “The next time Magnus comes into my medbay to lecture you about keeping out of trouble one more time, Whirl, I’ll weld your claws shut,” Ratchet scolded. “Or I’ll hand you over to him-“

Whirl waved a claw in the air, uncaring that Ratchet was currently working on that particular arm. “And he’ll throw me in the roller and drag me off to jail, I _know_.” The threat didn’t seem to faze him at all. “Real –ow— creative, doc. Like I don’t hear that one all the time.”

It was the “ow” that caught First Aid’s attention. Ratchet was _good_ at his work, and First Aid had only seen him make a mistake, even a small one, when extremely disturbed. Something about Whirl’s comment had gotten to Ratchet, but what, First Aid couldn’t even begin to guess.

First Aid knew better than to bring it up in front of a patient, but he stayed close by as Ratchet finished off the welding without any more grumbling, and sent Whirl off with only a dour “And don’t come back anytime soon.” He waited until Ratchet was turning from the door, and sorting out his tools, and stepped forward to help.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, tilting his visor to get a clear look at Ratchet’s faceplates. The other mech didn’t make it easy, turning away to fiddle with the tools as he did.

“Fine,” Ratchet said. “I’m going off-shift. If Whirl shows up here again, make sure to report him to Ultra Magnus. He’s walking a thin line here. This is the third time in as many days he’s been in here for scraps.”

First Aid nodded, but didn’t relent. “I didn’t mean Whirl, you know.” He ignored the way Ratchet glared at him. Between Ambulon and Pharma, First Aid was immune to cranky looks by now. He just pulled out a sterile tray and began putting a new set of basic tools on it, to replace the ones Ratchet had just finished with. All the while, he didn’t take his visor off of the senior medic.

Ratchet made a low sound of irritation in his vocalizer, but he didn’t play dumb. That was encouraging! First Aid wasn’t going to let this go without satisfying his curiosity, but it would be difficult if he had to pester Ratchet into it. The older medic had started to sanitize his own tools, turned away so that First Aid couldn’t see his expression, when he finally started to speak.

“You probably don’t know the term. It never spread far beyond Rodion. Barely even got out of the Dead End, in fact, considering there wasn’t much traffic in or out of there. Slag if I know where Whirl picked it up,” the CMO muttered, and it seemed to First Aid that he was talking more to himself than to any audience. “Must’ve been while he was locked up that first time. Probably brought it up just for me. Anyway,” Ratchet finally turned to glance at First Aid, “that term he used, roller, that was Dead End slang for a mech with a high-security transport alt-mode.”

“High security transport… you mean a prison vehicle?” First Aid asked, turning the words over in his processor. His hands had stopped moving by now, but Ratchet didn’t seem to notice. In fact, Ratchet was hardly getting any work done, either. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“There was a police mech who worked in Rodion when I was running a clinic there, with that alt-mode.” Ratchet’s optics were turned toward First Aid, but his gaze was unfocused. Whatever Ratchet’s attention was on, First Aid thought, it was something inside his own helm. “He and his partner gained something of a reputation in the area of the Dead End. Some notoriety, in fact, considering his designation was Roller.”

“You were friends?” First Aid asked quietly.

Ratchet seemed to shake himself, and removed the last of his tools from the sanitizer. “Yeah.” It was such an uncomplicated answer that First Aid couldn’t help feeling a bit of surprise. “Yeah, a long time ago.” Now that the tools were set aside, Ratchet stepped back. “Medbay’s yours, First Aid,” the CMO said as he turned toward the door.

First Aid let him go. Curious as he was, First Aid still knew how to read between the lines. He didn’t have to look through a roster of the Autobot ranks to know that he would not find a mech with that designation anywhere among the Autobots.


End file.
